


Hopelessly Unfair

by eena



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Challenge Response, Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-19
Updated: 2007-04-19
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eena/pseuds/eena
Summary: Willow knew that living on the Hellmouth meant that weird things would happen. She just didn’t think they would get this weird. Maybe that was her mistake. She should call Giles to ask. If only she was tall enough to reach the phone . . .





	1. Chapter 1  Not Good

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: Response to the Mommy Anita Challenge.  


* * *

Life was hopelessly unfair.

 

This revelation had come to Willow some ten minutes ago, when the ugly purple-skinned tentacle thingy had erupted from the Hellmouth and decided that she would make a good first snack. Of all the people in the room, the ugly purple thing had picked her. She supposed after a lifetime of feeling overlooked, being picked first for something should have made her feel a bit proud. And yet, she was having trouble mustering up the emotion.

 

The redhead sighed and looked around her surroundings again. Her eyes sidled over to the long metallic pole again. She felt the blood rush to her face and dropped her eyes quickly. She wasn’t really sure, it could have been a firemen’s pole, but with the rest of the décor, she wasn’t really going to bet on it.

 

Her fingers had been busy picking at the hem of her floral skirt for about five minutes, and now she let them stray a bit. They ended up on the ground underneath her, all ten digits pushing down on the plywood as if to verify it was real. She knew she was sitting on a stage, a stage with a pole, which made the firehouse thing seemed even more unlikely. She let her eyes travel along the surface of the platform, stopping when they reached the edge. She spied rows of tables just beyond the edge, with the chairs piled upside down on them, just like what restaurants did when they closed for the night.

 

Willow also knew that it wasn’t likely that she was in a restaurant. Sure she could see what looked like a bar off to the end of the room, a door that looked like it led to a kitchen-type facility, and what looked like menu cards piled up high at the end of the bar counter. She could almost pretend that it was a restaurant . . . But the pole was still there.

 

She was really starting to hate that freaking pole.

 

Willow stared glumly at the tips of her pink sandals. She wriggled both of her big toes, saw them both respond, and suddenly felt more depressed than she could ever remember feeling. This was way worse than all those times she had to sit through one of Xander’s ‘I’m-so-in-love-with-Buffy’ spiels. And it was even worse than all those times her life had been in danger. Hell, this topped the hyena thing!

 

How in the hell did she end up eight years old again?

 

She had kind of been hoping that this was a weird dream. That maybe she had bumped her head on something while Miss Calendar had been trying to keep her out of the ugly purple thing’s mouth and was currently delving into the stranger parts of her subconscious. But since she had turned her arms into series of angry-looking red welts from all her pinching without waking up, Willow had come to accept that this was no dream.

 

But she still wasn’t ready to accept the pole.

 

She shifted around uncomfortably on the hard stage, folding her legs in front of her as her fingers returned to their previous torment of her skirt. Willow dropped her eyes, taking in the pink floral pattern of her skirt, the stark whiteness of her nylons, and the shiny straps on her pink sandals. It was a cute outfit. It was a cute little girl’s outfit, and that’s what Willow’s mother had been banking on when she picked this little number out for her. Willow had worn this number on the most auspicious day when she had gone from seven years old to eight. The fuzzy pink sweater still kind of tickled; just like it she remembered it.

 

From eight years ago.

 

She was being very calm for some reason. She almost felt like she was detached from the realistic part of her brain. That part of her brain was probably going haywire, lights flashing, alarms blaring, and an endless scream set as the soundtrack for all the mayhem. That part of her brain was remembering everything that happened to her prior to this little adventure, making all the connections, and then proceeding to have a gigantic meltdown.

 

But Willow currently wasn’t using that part of her brain. She wasn’t sure which part she was using, if she was using any part of it all. She felt kind of empty, like she wasn’t really connected to her situation, her surroundings, or even her own body. It was like she was this ghostly type person, floating just beside the real Willow, watching everything just as she did, but not having to realize the implications because this wasn’t really her problem.

 

It was sort of nice, and was probably the only thing keeping her from having a massive heart attack. Only problem was that she knew it couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, she was become reconnected to the realistic part of her brain and she would have to deal with whatever this was. Just the thought of doing that was making her feel slightly anxious, so she pushed the thoughts down and continued with her dazed semi-exploration of her surroundings.

 

And wouldn’t you know it? Her eyes landed on that damn pole again. She frowned at it. The pole was becoming troublesome. It was making her think real hard about her situation, and then about what kinds of places would have a pole like that. Those kinds of thoughts just made her squirm, which made her upset, which brought her closer to the breakdown that was impending.

 

Where was Buffy? Willow squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push thoughts of her friends back down like the other upsetting thoughts, but these ones would not go easily. Her mind replayed images of the last time she saw them and came up with several horrific scenarios about what could have happened to them by now. What had happened? Was the Master dead? Was Buffy dead? Was Willow dead and this place her own sort of weird hell dimension? And what about Xander? And had happened to him? And Giles? And Jenny? And Angel? And, what the hell, Cordelia? Did they make it out okay? Was the apocalypse still coming? And why hadn’t any of them shown up to save her yet?

 

Okay. Enough. Calm. She repeated those three words to herself several times until she regained some semblance of control over her emotions. Willow opened her eyes and saw herself looking at that stupid pole again. She forced herself to keep looking at it, because dancing around it certainly wasn’t helping her. She was just going to have to look at it and accept what it was. Once that was done, she could move on to figuring out where she was, why she was here, and why her friends weren’t here with her. She wasn’t delusional enough to think that she was going to get any answers, but sooner or later she was going to have to move.

 

She just wasn’t sure where she was going to move to.

 

Willow unfolded her legs carefully as she regarded the pole. She had seen enough movies to realize what kind of pole it was, and though it embarrassed her to think about it, she was going to have to suffer through her discomfort. She couldn’t just sit around here all day. Well, she could, but she didn’t think anything productive would come out of that. Not that she was sure that moving around would be productive, but what was the harm in trying?

 

Her fingers reached out to touch the damnable pole, her tips just brushing it when she heard the telltale signs of a lock turning. Instead of doing something smart like hiding, Willow froze right in her tracks. Buffy would have moved and hidden until she could determine if the newcomers were friendly or not. Xander would have hid on the sheer fact of being afraid. But Willow couldn’t gather enough common sense to hide, nor could she will her legs to move as they seemed to be stuck to the stage.

 

The door opened, and she heard a series of male voices carrying on in a friendly banter. And as she stood there, stuck to the floor by her own stupidity, Willow decided to try and listen in the conversation of the newcomers. But all talking stopped almost as soon as it began. Instead there was silence where there should have been some sort of noise. But she heard nothing, no footsteps, no whispers, no shuffling clothes-nothing. It was like the newcomers had vanished.

 

But she knew that she could never be that lucky. In fact, she knew that they were probably sneaking around the building somewhere, most likely trying to get the drop on her. And if her brain could manage to send coherent messages to her limbs, she would have told her feet to move her to underneath the nearest table to wait out her guests. But that wasn’t the case; she was still stuck and without a clue as to who was in the building with her.

 

The seconds stretched on like hours and Willow just stood there in her little pink birthday outfit, hands touching the stupid pole, and eyes trying in vain to locate the new arrivals.

 

There was a round of soft cursing from somewhere to her left, followed by hushed reprimands. She turned around to face the source of the noise, even though her brain was still sending frantic run-for-your-life signals to her unresponsive legs. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit area around her, not seeing anything until finally one of the newcomers took pity on her and stepped into the light.

 

He looked to be a little older than she was. Or rather, older than she actually was, not older than how she appeared to be now. She would say nineteen at the most. He had curly blonde hair and the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen. If she hadn’t been so frightened of him, Willow suspected that she might have melted into a pool of silly teenage girl right at his feet.

 

“Hey there,” he greeted her, approaching slowly as if she was the dangerous one here. Yeah, like anyone who barely topped three feet could be a threat to a full grown adult. “What’s your name?”

 

She didn’t respond. She just looked at him with big, terrified eyes. He smiled in what was supposed to be a reassuring way, but it did nothing to relax her. She just stood there; now clutching the pole like her life depended on it, mutely watching the very attractive man approach her. She could hear other voices mumbling in the shadows, and it did nothing to calm her down.

 

“It’s all right darling. We won’t hurt you. Just tell us your name and we’ll try and find your Mommy and Daddy, okay?”

 

It was probably how one was supposed to talk to a frightened child, but it wasn’t turning out to be the best way to talk to a frightened Willow. Her eyes locked on his, and although he smiled very nicely at her, she couldn’t shake her fear. And so she did the only thing she could think to do.

 

She burst into tears.

 

~*~


	2. Chapter 2  Boldly And Heroically Freaking Out

Apparently male strippers didn’t know how to handle hysterical eight year old girls. Pity, because they had a hysterical eight year old girl on their hands and she wasn’t planning on becoming un-hysterical any time soon. Especially since they weren’t planning on calling the police or any other authority-type person any time soon. Call her crazy, but that made Willow feel a wee bit unsafe. And that made her cry harder, which in turn made the male strippers more uncomfortable, and therefore made the situation even worse.

 

She really could have used a white knight right about now. Hell, she’d take a black knight, red knight, multicoloured-whatever kind of knight it took, as long as he (or she-Willow wasn’t discriminating here) rescued her from this nightmare. And if they could also find a way to make her sixteen again, that would be nice too.

 

But of course, life just wasn’t that easy.

 

She had been crying for so long that it was a wonder that she had anything left inside her to make more tears. And yet they came, no matter how much she tried to control them. They came in waves, pouring down her face, dripping down her chin, and splashing onto her skirt. Her nose was runny and leaking so much that she wiped at it constantly with her hand until one of the male strippers was kind enough to give her a tissue. She was willing to bet her entire face was red and horribly crinkled up. She could feel the long strings of saliva that sputtered in and out of her mouth as she drew in ragged gasps of air. Not the most attractive picture in the world, but she just couldn’t stop.

 

Buffy would have been stronger than this. She wouldn’t have been reduced to a mess like this. She would have known that the best thing for her to do would be to regain her calm and find the nearest phone to call Giles. Willow also knew that this was the best thing to do. But she couldn’t reach that first ‘calm’ stage of the plan. And besides, she was a very short child. She wasn’t sure she could reach the phone.

 

The male strippers were unquestionably in the dark with what to do with her. After her sudden explosion into tears, the blonde man who had originally approached her had tried to calm her with soothing words, but every time he got too close, Willow freaked out and added a high-pitched scream to her sobs. So after about five minutes of that, the blonde man gave up and retreated to the far end of the stage to confer with his male stripper colleagues. She wasn’t so sure what they whispered about, but she definitely heard their adverse reaction to the idea of bringing in the police. Sometimes she heard them eluding to some mysterious boss type person, John something or the other, but that was it.

 

And she kept up her crying all the way through their deliberations. With her left arm wrapped tightly around her former nemesis, the pole, Willow cried her little heart out, hiccupping being added to the mix after about twenty good minutes of tears. At one point, maybe near the thirty minute mark, one of the male strippers decided he was tired of the whole mess. After politely telling the others to do as they saw best, the male stripper wandered over to her, ignored the higher pitch of her cries that his approach provoked, and gently but firmly pulled Willow into his lap.

 

She stumbled into her new position, whacking her face against his chest and losing her grip on the pole in the process. Strands of hair stuck to her face and as she wiped at them angrily, she realized that they weren’t strands of her hand. Still sobbing, she opened her eyes a bit and saw a flash of auburn hair before the male stripper lifted it up and out of her way. She dared a peek upwards and looked into a pair of serene violet eyes. Those eyes were soft, careful, and understanding. The face that went with them wasn’t that bad either.

 

Hey, hysterical and short aside, she was a sixteen year old girl. She noticed stuff like that, even at the most inappropriate times. These being one of those times. Very quickly Willow remembered that she was supposed to be crying and that the man holding her was a male stripper. And so she started again.

 

Violet eyed male stripper didn’t seem all that perturbed by her crying. In fact, he kind of ignored it. He didn’t rock her or mumble soothing things like most people would if they had a sobbing eight year old in their lap. He just let her stay where she was, one arm wrapped loosely around her middle to hold her. Willow suspected that he didn’t even look at her much, as he seemed more interested in the ongoing debate behind them. Willow found that she was interested too, but still not comfortable enough to stop crying. So she downgraded from gasping sobs to sniffling with the occasional snort. With the noise level down from what it had been before, she was able to pick up more bits about what was going on with the other male strippers.

 

Apparently it had been decided that not calling the boss would be the worse thing to do, and so they were going to call John. There were also numerous mentions of a woman named Anita of who very little was said, other than that not calling her wasn’t even an option. And so some of the male strippers reached for their cell phones and began dialling different numbers. Two conversations started almost at once, and though Willow made out very little, she could tell that Anita and John were both on their way and both not happy about the crying girl in the strip club. Willow suspected that it was because little girls in strip clubs were not good for business, but she could have been wrong. After all, most people would have called the police after finding a strange crying girl all on her lonesome. But as these male strippers had not done that (and had seemed very opposed to doing that at all), Willow wasn’t going to assume anything.

 

But she was going to have to stop crying.

 

It wasn’t that she had gathered up courage for the situation or anything smart like that. It was just the simple fact that she could not keep crying for much longer. Her throat was dry, her eyes were swollen and itchy, and all the snot and saliva all over her face was making her stomach churn. She was turning into a mess, a disgusting sticky mess, and she just didn’t have the energy to keep it up.

 

So she stopped. The sniffling and snorting subsided into long deep breaths and the occasional sharp inhaling. The tears stopped flowing, but her face was still wet, not to mention all the snot and stuff. Another tissue was pressed into her hand, from the violet eyed male stripper, and she took it without a word. She wiped her face as clean as she could, and though not completely snot-free, it was much better than before.

 

Her crying had tired her out, and her little eight year old body felt like it had been drained empty. Her head thumped against that hard male chest again and she let herself lean up against him as she gave her body a rest. He didn’t say anything, nor did he move at all. His arm remained where it was, neither tightening nor loosening with the end of her fit. She didn’t know why, but she appreciated that fact that he wasn’t trying all the usual methods of dealing with a child. He offered her more comfort just like this than any amount of head patting and reassuring prattle could have ever given.

 

The other male strippers had quieted down. There was the occasional whisper, mostly concerning the issue of whether they would be going on tonight. Apparently it was close to opening hour, and most of the other staff would be arriving soon. Did the crying girl mean they got the day off? Or would John insist on their clothes coming off, regardless of the distressed girl? So many questions, so many of them about nudity or the possibility of nudity-all of which made Willow very embarrassed. But since her face was already red from all the crying, she doubted that any of them would be able to tell that she was blushing.

 

She coughed lightly now and then, wincing at the strain it put on her throat. Her actions must have been noticed because minutes later, there was a glass of water being pressed into her hands. She took it wordlessly, not looking up to even acknowledge the male stripper who had fetched the drink. She sipped at the water slowly, keeping the glass close to her mouth in case she needed to hide behind it. She noted that they had given her a martini glass, and she giggled without thought. But as soon as the sound escaped her lips, her heart started beating faster. Quickly she pressed her lips together and looked down into her water so that she wouldn’t be tempted to look up at any of the male strippers. She was so focused on this task that she almost missed the grand entrance.

 

Doors that had been opened slowly before suddenly exploded as they were forcibly pushed open. Willow couldn’t help but gasp and jerk her body at the sudden noise. Her movements caused some of her water to spill and slosh onto her white nylons. She was tempted to look the way of the door, but for some reason she just couldn’t do it. If she had been frightened before, she was beyond terrified now. Every single part of her brain was now going haywire, lights flashing and alarms blaring. For reasons beyond her, she suddenly felt so cold that she began to shiver considerably. The violet eyed male stripper noticed this and for the first time since he plunked her into his lap, he moved to pull her into a comforting embrace.

 

She didn’t question it. She threw herself into it, nose smashed up against that hard male chest. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought she could feel her chest shaking from the force of it. Her eyes were wide open and fearful as she looked over the violet eyed male stripper’s shoulder and at the far wall. The cold sensation didn’t get any better with time. In fact, every second that went by, it intensified threefold. By the end of it, she was rubbing her hands frantically over her arms in an attempt to get some kind of warmth. She pushed herself as close to the violet eyed male stripper as she could, tiny little body shaking almost violently with fear and cold.

 

The urge to cry had long ago been replaced with the urge to scream. Fear swirled around in her belly and her efforts to keep it down were not working. Her mouth opened and closed, a few gasps escaping here and there. It felt like there was ice pushing against every section of her skin. She whimpered and threw her arms around the violet eyed male stripper, tiny little fingernails digging into his skin so hard that she thought that she drew blood. But even that thought couldn’t get her to let go. It only made her grip stronger. And as the urge to run for her life got stronger and stronger, Willow felt her legs buck in response. They finally got all the messages her brain had been sending, but now it was too late. Now her brain was so befuddled that the only thing it could do was tell her to cling to the violet eyed male stripper like her life depended on it.

 

And then, she heard the voice that pierced her like thousands of icy daggers:

 

“Okay, where the fuck did the kid come from?”

 

~*~


	3. Chapter 3  Sit! Stay! Good Kitty!

It had taken twenty minutes to calm Willow down, and even after that was accomplished, she refused to speak. Hell, she refused to even look at anyone but the violet eyed male stripper. Anytime another person got too close, she would start to tremble and then proceed to bury her face in the violet eyed male stripper’s chest. If anyone other than him dared touch her, she would add in a few screams as well. Pretty soon everyone got the message.

 

Violet eyed male stripper had picked her up and carried her a good distance away from the scary brunette monster lady, whom she had heard the other strippers call Anita. Of course, they could have called her Mother Theresa and Willow wouldn’t have given a damn. That woman was by far the scariest thing Willow had ever encountered. Her mere presence drove Willow practically out of her mind. Not to mention that she swore in front of a child. That was just wrong.

 

She opened her eyes for a minute, gaze immediately washing over the peculiar surroundings. For a manager’s office or whatever, this room sure was decorated weird. But then again, maybe it wasn’t that odd. Maybe all strip club manager’s had offices like this one. Willow sure as hell didn’t have any prior experience with strip clubs or their managers, so it wasn’t like she could compare this one to any other.

 

But she couldn’t help shake the feeling that this was weird, even for the office of a strip club manager. Who needs this much leather furniture, and what was with the paint job? She wrinkled her little nose and tried to push the thought from her mind. Only problem was that she had been doing that a lot, with many other thoughts. Pretty soon she would no other thoughts to occupy her mind and she might have to deal with the reality of her situation. And with the scary-monster-lady just outside those doors, that just wasn’t something Willow felt like doing.

 

There was some mumbling between the violet eyed male stripper and his one blonde colleague that she had allowed to remain in the office with them. Of course, the colleague in question was on the opposite side of the room, as far as he could be from Willow without actually being inside the wall. If he moved an inch closer, she began her little tantrum again. So he didn’t move, at all, for the past thirty minutes or so. To his credit, he didn’t sound all that annoyed. In fact, he sounded kind of neutral, just like violet eyed male stripper. They discussed the situation like they were discussing the weather.

 

What she could gather from the murmurings that she chose to listen to, owner John had arrived and was outside with the scary-monster-lady. They were confused about what to do with her. It sounded like the scary-monster-lady was also a bit insulted by Willow’s reaction to her. John was trying to reassure her that she wasn’t all that frightening, or something to that nature.

 

And there was still a gigantic lack of enthusiasm for calling the police. Or calling any kind of authority at all. John and Anita seemed determined to deal with Willow all on their own, but how they planned to do that she couldn’t say. Mostly because the male strippers wouldn’t say. She would have asked, but that meant talking to them. Willow wasn’t quite ready to make that leap. Besides, as soon as she started talking, the sooner all of these weird people would start asking her questions. Questions that she probably couldn’t answer.

 

The situation was so complicated that it made her head hurt. Willow pouted into the violet eyed male stripper’s chest and heaved a tiny little sigh. She was so screwed. There was no use dancing around the situation at this point. She was utterly and completely screwed. Never before, in the entire history of screwiness, had there ever been anyone as royally screwed as Willow. A sixteen trapped in her own eight year old body, surrounded by male strippers and a scary-monster-lady that wouldn’t call the police to help her, and no sign of her friends.

 

She sniffled, a new batch of tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She still felt all achy and sick from the last time she cried, but it wasn’t like she could stop herself. She really wanted to be with her friends right now. She wasn’t even sure if they were okay. And if they were, did what happen to her happen to them? Was there a confused group of not-real-eight-year-olds running around Sunnydale looking for her? And what if she wasn’t even in Sunnydale? Willow wasn’t sure if there was a male strip club in Sunnydale, but the odds weren’t that great. It was a quiet town, even if the nightlife was a little more dangerous than other places. And if there was a male strip club with guys this cute working there, surely she would have heard it being whispered about by all the giggly and hormonal teenage girls at school. There was no way that a guy with hair like the violet eyed male stripper’s hair could have gone unnoticed in a town like Sunnydale.

 

Violet eyed male stripper shifted underneath her. She frowned into his chest. She could feel him stiffening up, spine going completely straight and limbs becoming tense. Something was happening, and she had been too preoccupied feeling sorry for herself to know what it was. Violet eyed male stripper had tightened the grip he had on her waist, though she didn’t know if it was for comfort or to stop her from freaking out.

 

When she heard the telltale sounds of an opening door, Willow figured that the latter had been his intention. And given that violet eyed male stripper had proven to be quite strong, Willow knew better than to waste her time with struggling. So she just tilted her head so that she could see who was entering the room.

 

The blonde male stripper was on his feet and actually had his head bowed a bit to the new guy. She was pretty sure she heard him mutter something like ‘master’ before he exited the room. She watched his departure, noting the speed at which he fled the room. That didn’t bode well. The door closed with a single click. With little choice left to her, Willow turned her face so that she could see who had arrived.

 

To say the man was handsome was like saying the Mona Lisa was a decent painting. Gorgeous didn’t even cover it. It was like he was sculpted from clay and then brought to life, because there was no way for anyone to naturally be this beautiful. Nice, normal build, from what she could see, and dressed in the craziest outfit she had seen in her life. Leather and lace just didn’t seem like a viable clothing option to her, but this guy pulled it off very well. Long black hair that fell in waves around his shoulders, framing a delicate, but pale face. And his eyes, so blue that she could barely describe them. So blue, that she could just fall into them and drown . . .

 

Whoa! Willow jerked her head away, mind all blurry and muddled. There was a ringing in her ear, like someone had just fired off a cannon right next to her. And her brain felt like someone had just jammed their fingers into it, gouging and carving holes into it for their own perverse pleasure. She shook her head, trying to shove the feeling away, but not quite managing to do the trick. She twisted in the violet eyed male stripper’s grip, determined to get free of these people so that she could get a chance to relax and think properly again.

 

But it wasn’t happening. Violet eyed male stripper just held her close, so close that her fidgeting made absolutely no difference. But that didn’t mean that she had to stop. No, the resistance only made her fight harder. And even though her brain understood that it was futile, Willow’s little eight-year-old body refused to give up the fight. She pushed and jerked, scratched and clawed, kicked and punched, but there was nothing she could do to make the larger man let her go.

 

But she would not admit defeat. Things had become even worse than before. The possibility of a scary-monster-lady was nothing compared to this strangely beautiful man who apparently had the power of the Vulcan Mind Meld-or something very similar to it. No, now Willow knew that she was in real danger, and there wasn’t anything that was going to stop her attempt at escape.

 

And so she kept at it. She wore herself out, frantically pushing and clawing, little sobs escaping her mouth when she realized the futility of it all. Both men just waited for her to stop, but she wasn’t going to make it that easy for them.

 

She screeched in sheer frustration as she abandoned her pushing and resorted to pummelling the violet eyed male stripper with her tiny child fists. They made no real impact, but she kept it up. Tears flowed freely and she screamed more and more as her panic mounted. And finally, for the first time she had landed in this strange place, Willow said (shouted more like it) something.

 

“Let me go!”

 

It was a scream of desperation, one that she didn’t actually believe would accomplish anything. But she had said it anyway, because she couldn’t stop herself. She just needed to get away. She didn’t expect her words would get her freedom, but they came tumbling out almost instinctively. She didn’t believe they would help her in the least. She thought that she was done for.

 

So imagine her surprise when the violet eyed male stripper let her go.

 

She had been caught off guard, in the midst of another ineffectual assault when he released his grip. She couldn’t stop herself from falling off his lap and therefore landed in a painful heap on the floor by his feet. She sat there, momentarily quiet as she tries to register what had just happened. She think she won, but she’s not sure how. All she knew was that suddenly, and without warning, the violet eyed male stripper had decided to listen to her.

 

Then reality set in and she jumped to her feet, scrambling as far away from both men as she could. So when she was firmly wedged in the corner just beyond the office desk, Willow turned around to assess her situation. Looking at the new, pretty guy was out of the question, so she tried to look around him for a bit. Then it was onto her former anchor, the violet eyed male stripper who had just let her go for reasons beyond her.

 

She found him sitting in the exact spot she had left him, only there was one thing different. He was turned in her direction, head bowed slightly, just like the other blonde male stripper had done to the beautiful-mind-melding guy. Willow frowned and moved a few steps to the right. The violet eyed male stripper followed her movements, his head bowed all the while.

 

Huh. This was new, and kind of freaky.

 

There came a laugh, suddenly and without warning, just rushing over her like the flow of a cool spring stream. Willow felt her eyelids flutter for a second before she shook herself back to control. She knew who was doing it, she just wasn’t sure why. And then his voice came, seductive and wholly French, wafting through the air like a musical note.

 

“Well, isn’t this interesting?”

 

~*~

The End?


End file.
